


but some flare out with love, love, love

by chocobos



Series: stay close to me [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: CUDDLES(TM), Canon Compliant, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Promnis Week, Sharing a Bed, lobster massacre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 03:36:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17439197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocobos/pseuds/chocobos
Summary: Prompto shouldn’t be having a life-altering crisis over the prospect of having to share a bed with Ignis. It’s not like he’s never shared a bed with someone -- he’s lost count of the amount of times he’s fallen asleep tangled around Noctis -- but this is completely new territory for him.





	but some flare out with love, love, love

**Author's Note:**

> wow... three fics in three days.,.. nope, this is not an illusion! i can't believe i've been able to stick with this fan week for so long, this is the most i've ever been able to participate in one and it's been such a blast!! 
> 
> ANYWAY here's day 3 of promnis week, i chose the prompt 'sharing a bed' and i hope i did it justice! 
> 
> i went for something "shorter" this time, since yesterday took a lot out of me and if everything goes according to plan, tomorrow's fic will be kind of long. 
> 
> AS ALWAYS THIS WAS BETA'D BY MY INCREDIBLE BOYFRIEND, THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE THANK YOU FOR HOLDING MY HAND THIS WEEK <3

Prompto’s trying to find the words to speak, but for once, they die before they even crawl up his throat. 

  
Ignis’ expression shutters, and he subtly leans into Prompto’s space in a silent show of concern. It took him months on the road with him to be able to read him this well, and he still kind of sucks at it. 

“Prompto?” Ignis asks him. Prompto’s left wondering, not for the first time, how he manages to convey so much in a single word. How many different ways he can say Prompto; he’s still learning them. It all makes the guilt building steadily in the pit of his center, and suddenly he feels overwhelmed.    
  
This is  _ ridiculous _ .    
  
Prompto shouldn’t be having a life-altering crisis over the prospect of having to share a bed with Ignis. It’s not like he’s never shared a bed with someone -- he’s lost count of the amount of times he’s fallen asleep tangled around Noctis -- but this is completely new territory for him.    
  
Ignis isn’t  _ only _ his friend, not to him.    
  
Is it even just sharing a bed with a friend if you have a big, dumb romantic crush on them? Prompto’s not sure. He’s not sure he wants to know.    
  
And anyway, Prompto  _ knows _ he’s being stupid. It’s not like they’ve never slept in the same vicinity before. When you share a tent with three other dudes, privacy and personal space slowly burn away until there’s nothing left. He’s woken up with an ass in his face more times than he’d ever thought possible. 

This, what he’s about to do, this is one-on-one time, in bed, with  _ Ignis _ . Pure, unadulterated Ignis cuddling content where Prompto will have to pretend like he isn’t thinking about how much he wants to reach over to take Ignis’ hand. Like they both want to be there.    
  
Prompto bites his lip. He doesn’t think it’s just sharing a bed with a friend if you’re this gone on them. What started out as a big, dumb romantic crush on Ignis has morphed into something  _ tangible _ . Something Prompto doesn’t have control over anymore. Something he maybe never did.    


He truly can’t imagine anything worse than Ignis coming to the realization that Prompto kind of fucking adores him. The thought alone makes Prompto want to smash his head into a wall.    
  
“I can switch with Noct, if you’d prefer,” Ignis continues, because Prompto’s currently being an asshole, standing there in poor imitation of a statue. 

Prompto doesn’t trust himself not to wrap himself around Ignis in his sleep. He’s cuddly by nature, always has been, and it’s even worse when he’s sleeping. He has no doubt that he’ll wake up tangled with Ignis in the morning. The first time it happened with Noctis was bad enough; he’d been so mortified when he woke up he was sure if anyone found out he woke up spooning the prince, he’d be tried for treason.    
  
Now, though.    
  
The problem isn’t simply waking up in an uncomfortable situation with Ignis; he’s not sure if this time he’ll have the strength to pull himself away in the morning. 

Maybe he can discreetly separate them with some pillows or something.    
  
“No, uh. It’s okay, man,” Prompto tells him, and winces at how awkward he sounds. He totally isn’t driving home the idea that Prompto doesn’t completely hate this. “I need to see a man about some pillows,” Prompto blurts.    
  
Ignis, understandably, looks perplexed. “Pardon?” 

He flushes, the redness no doubt covering his ears and waterfalling down his neck. “Pillows,” is all he says. Nice going, Prompto. That’s really clarifying. 

Ignis gets a furrowing pinch between his eyebrows, blowing out a breath like he does whenever something annoys him. Prompto gulps, but all Ignis does is gently wrap his fingers around Prompto’s forearm to drag them to the corner of the room. Noctis and Gladio are entirely wrapped up in each other, so it’s not like they’re going to notice them regardless, but. 

Prompto’s grateful for the extra layer of privacy, even if he’s pretty sure Ignis is about to chew him out for being so sensitive about  _ sharing a bed _ . 

“If this makes you uneasy, you need to tell me, Prompto. Noctis and Gladio aside, they don’t need to share a bed, despite what they claim.”    
  
“It’s not you,” Prompto admits, reaching up to nervously rub his hand along the back of his neck. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable when I inevitably wake up wrapped around you in the morning,” Prompto whispers.    
  
The words seem to shock Ignis, or at the very least, they make him pause. Prompto feels like an unimaginable douche for letting Ignis stand here thinking that Prompto had a problem with him. That’s the furthest from the truth; Prompto’s problem is becoming a problem for Ignis. 

Ignis’ expression clears a few moments later. He pats Prompto on the shoulder, a quick pat-pat rhythm that should feel condescending but isn’t. “I’ll remind you I grew up with Noct.”    
  
Prompto barks out a laugh, and he doesn’t know  _ why _ , but the words are followed by a tidal wave of relief that crashes into him. How Ignis always knows what to tell him, he’s not sure he’ll ever understand. He knows he doesn’t want it to stop.    
  
“Okay, yeah. I’m being an idiot about this, aren’t I?” 

Ignis shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Nonsense. I find it sweet you were concerned at all.” 

Prompto laughs so he doesn’t have to tell him that Prompto spends an embarrassing amount of time worrying about him. 

“I didn’t wanna stomp all over your very delicate sensibilities,” Prompto teases.    
  
A comment that he was sure would’ve made Ignis upset with him even just a few months ago, but it’s one that he flies out of his mouth like breathing. They’ve learned about each other in the last few months, and finding out that Ignis had no problem ditching his polite exterior if the situation called for it had been a revelation. 

Ignis turns away from him, but not before Prompto catches the amusement that still lingers in his gaze. “Enough of that, Prompto. Now, tell me. Are you hungry?”    
  
Prompto’s stomach takes the opportunity to answer for him, and he laughs even as his cheeks flush, unable to stop the small sting of embarrassment. 

“I think I’m going to go with a yes on that one, Iggy,” Prompto jokes.    
  
Ignis doesn’t smile at him, but Prompto doesn’t need him to. Ignis’ face is sweet enough without it. 

“Let us fix that, then. Shall we?” Ignis asks him, invitation clear. 

Prompto grins. A few weeks ago, he’d finally talked himself into asking Ignis if he wouldn’t mind teaching him a few recipes. Prompto’s not that bad of a cook himself, and he’s always been comfortable around food. But, before, it had always been about survival. His experience with spices and herbs was limited to the salt and pepper his parents had bought years ago, and he pretty much exclusively used a microwave no matter what he was cooking.    
  
It’s different now, and not only because Prompto doesn’t have a microwave to go back to. 

If this trip has taught him anything, it’s that it is now more than ever, foolish to take anything for granted.    
  
So, after weeks of talking himself into it and Noctis  _ nagging _ him into it, Prompto finally asked Ignis if he wouldn’t mind teaching him a few recipes. He had made as big of an ass out of himself as he had feared, but at least he walked away from that conversation with a promise from Ignis to begin their cooking lessons the next morning.    
  
“Hell yeah, dude,” Prompto says, and follows Ignis when he starts to lead them towards the hotel’s small kitchenette. It’s not often they manage to book a hotel room that has one attached. It’s a rare treat; being treated to Ignis’ cooking when he can properly enjoy it without his ass going numb.    
  
Noctis and Gladio haven’t moved from the other bed since they collapsed on it when they arrived. Noctis is curled into the big guy’s chest, head tucked underneath his chin. He can’t tell if Gladio is sleeping too, but the sight is cute enough that Prompto will eat his hand if he has to stare at them any longer.    


Instead, he turns around to shift his attention to Ignis. The man is setting the pots on the stove. Prompto saddles up to him, their shoulders brushing together as he moves to stand beside the taller man. 

“So, what are we making tonight?” Prompto asks, voice low enough not to disturb the other two in the room.    
  
Ignis gestures to the ingredients laying on the counter, and it’s as patronizing as it is endearing, so he finds he really can’t get mad about it. “I thought I’d give the lobster omelette another go, with Noct’s recent catch in Caem.” 

Prompto grins. “Ooh, lobster massacre. Sign me up, buddy!” 

Ignis smirks, and Prompto’s sure the way he sexily spins the knives like a confident attractive jackass is entirely intentional.    
  
“Excellent. Now, have you ever stabbed a lobster before?” 

Prompto snorts. 

“Can’t say I have,” Prompto says, and leans forward so Ignis can teach him.    
  
  


 

 

\----

  
  


  
  
  


By the time the four of them have cleaned up dinner, eaten dinner, and successfully lazed around playing card games, Prompto’s feeling much better about sharing a bed with Ignis. Their talk earlier really helped put things into perspective; Ignis wasn’t the type of guy who would let things get weird between them if Prompto happens to snuggle him when he’s sleeping.    
  
Knowing that -- actually  _ knowing _ that -- makes it easier to crawl into the free side of the bed when he’s done brushing his teeth. Ignis is already under the covers, the simple white t-shirt he sleeps in peeking out about the comforter. He’s typing something into his phone, and his glasses are resting on the small bump on the bridge of his nose.    
  
He looks so beautiful, with his hair down and free of product, the strands casting shadows on his face. Prompto wishes the man would wear his hair like this more often; it softens his features, makes him look as young as he actually is. Kind of like how he wore his hair when he and Noct were in high school. 

Prompto realizes he’s staring, hands clutching the very same comforter Ignis is under, one knee on the bed. Ignis hasn’t seemed to notice yet, or at least he’s being polite enough to pretend not to (that’s way more likely, if Prompto’s being honest with himself). Prompto releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and slides the rest of the way on the bed. 

Ignis doesn’t turn towards him, but he does make an acknowledging noise. Prompto watches his fingers fly across the surface of his phone for a few moments before remembering that this probably isn’t the best use of his time when he’s this close to the man who is currently destroying him. 

He rearranges himself until he’s laying comfortably on his back with pillows fluffed underneath his head. He imagines it feels like what kids used to describe back in school after spending the night over at a classmate’s house. It’s different than it was with Noctis; despite how long he’s known him, everything about this with Ignis is so  _ new _ . 

“You seem as if you have a bit on your mind tonight, Prompto,” Ignis says.    
  
Prompto shakes his head. “Nothing bad... it’s just been a good day,” he whispers. He isn’t even lying. Today was good. The best day they’ve had since they heard about the King’s fall all those months ago.  

Ignis turns towards him slightly to smile at him. “It certainly was, wasn’t it?” 

Prompto’s breath stutters out of him. There’s no other word for it, Ignis looks  _ ethereal;  _ smile teasing his lips upwards that makes his face soften in a way that sends a roundhouse kick to Prompto’s gut. Ignis always looks beautiful, but he’s doing the most to ensure Prompto will stop breathing by the time he’s twenty-five. 

“Yeah,” Prompto whispers, unnecessarily. “Whatcha reading?” He asks, more out of curiosity than any real hope that Ignis will actually tell him. 

Ignis tilts the screen to the side so Prompto can see. It looks like the transcript to a documentary.    
  
“I’m afraid, nothing terribly exciting.” He says, and Prompto feels absurdly mushy when Ignis doesn’t move his phone afterwards. 

“Wow, are you really reading a transcript for a documentary right now?” Prompto asks, and hopes his voice doesn’t give away how damn cute he finds that. 

Ignis chuckles, low and just for Prompto. Though, he’s probably being respectful to their friends, who are most definitely  _ both _ fast asleep this time. “We don’t have much time to view them, so this will have to do for now.”    
  
Prompto shakes his head, smiling crookedly at Ignis.

“I think it’s cool,” Prompto whispers. “It’s a very Iggy thing to do.”    
  
Ignis raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”    
  
“Mhm,” Prompto hums, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from saying something horrifying. 

There’s at least a good six inches between them, but Prompto can feel the heat radiating off of Ignis in waves. The man is like a furnace, and Prompto’s cold enough that only his waning sense of dignity keeps him from sliding closer. Still, Prompto finds himself wanting to close it. They feel too far apart right now even though this is the longest he’s ever been this close to Ignis.    
  
They lay there, for several minutes. Prompto feels himself start to drift from watching the continuous motion of Ignis’ scrolling through the transcript; brain too tired to really keep up with what the blur of letters stand for. Prompto doesn’t want to fall asleep just yet, wants to savor this for as long as he can. Who knows if he’ll ever get this again. 

Ignis glances over at him, takes one look at the droopiness of his eyes and the way Prompto keeps having to shake himself awake, and puts his phone to sleep without another breath. 

“Prompto, I do believe it’s time for you to get some rest,” Ignis says. There’s a rustling of fabric, Ignis shifting on to one of his sides. Prompto opens his eyes once more and swears, even through the darkness, that Prompto can make out the vague shapes of Ignis’ eyes staring back at him. 

He shudders, and it has nothing to do with the cold.    
  
“What’re you talking about? I’m not --” Prompto unintentionally cuts himself off with a truly pitiful yawn. “I’m not that tired.”    
  
He thinks he sees Ignis smile at him again.    
  
“Sleep, Prompto,” Ignis urges him, gently.   
  
Prompto sighs. “‘Kay.”    
  
  


  
  
  
  


\----

  
  
  
  
  
  


So, of course, as soon as Ignis turns his back towards him to get some sleep of his own, Prompto finds himself wide awake. The tiredness from before lingers at the edges of his consciousness, but where before it seeped into into all of his spaces, no matter how hard he tries, he can’t quite catch up with it now.    
  
Prompto isn’t even surprised. 

That doesn’t make it suck any less, especially when he’s pretty sure Ignis is probably already sleeping. They all make fun of Noctis for falling asleep at every free opportunity, but Ignis could give him a run for his money if he didn’t have the willpower of all the Astrals combined. 

Prompto sighs, hoping it doesn’t sound as loud as it feels, and shifts onto his side, so he’s staring at the shapeless blob of Ignis that just registers as murky blackness. Being awake all night will suck, as it always does. Hopefully if this happens again, Prompto will have the foresight to make sure his phone is fully charged so he could really entertain himself.    
  
Prompto’s lost in the cresting rhythm of his thoughts, so when Ignis reaches out to place a hand on Prompto’s shoulder over the comforter, he thinks he deserves a goddamn medal for not letting out a noise louder than a small yelp. 

“Prompto?” Ignis whispers. Ah, so not as asleep as Prompto had thought. He doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not yet. “What’s troubling you?” 

“Ah, shit, sorry dude. Did I wake you up?” 

“No,” Ignis assures him. It’s quiet for a long moment before a soft, “would you like me to sleep on the floor?” 

Prompto throws his hands up in a placating gesture, but it doesn’t exactly work underneath the thick hotel comforter. He shakes his head for good measure, staring at Ignis with impossibly wide eyes. 

“Please don’t.”    
  
Ignis goes quiet again, the hand on Prompto’s shoulder shifting down the length of his arm until it tickles across the ditch of his elbow. Goosebumps rise on Prompto's skin, which are only made worse when Ignis’ bare fingers brush against him like this. Prompto doesn’t think he’s as surprised as he could be when Ignis’ hand lands in his own after a few moments. 

“May I try something, Prompto?”

Prompto would probably let Ignis try anything if he only asked. 

“Sure, Iggy. I trust you,” Prompto says.    
  
Ignis’ hand squeezes Prompto’s before letting go of his hand entirely. Ignis moves closer, sliding one of his legs over Prompto’s own, hooking it around to tangle their legs together. Prompto’s heart makes a valiant effort to lodge in his esophagus when Ignis’ arms snake around his waist, and a somewhat embarrassed chuckle sounds in his ears. 

“Is this alright?” 

Ignis’ breath tickles the shell of Prompto’s ear, despite the space between them, and he shudders.

“Y -- yeah,” Prompto stammers. This is everything he’s ever wanted. 

“Then you’ll need to be closer.” 

The invitation is just as clear as the one before dinner. The air between them feels charged, electric; dancing along every single one of Prompto’s nerves. The voice in the back of his head tells him this all sounds a little too much like what he wants to hear, but the heat of Ignis at his back fights to prove otherwise. 

Prompto heaves a breathless sigh, scooting backwards until the heat of Ignis becomes searing. Ignis closes the additional distance between them by hooking his arms around Prompto’s middle. They’re pressed together in all the ways Prompto thought he’d never get to have, and it’s all a little too much. 

“Is this okay?” Prompto asks, needing to be sure that this is something Ignis wants too.    
  
“I’m afraid this is bound to spoil me,” is all Ignis says.    
  
“For what?” 

Prompto swears he feels the ghost of lips press against the back of his head. 

“I would hold you like this any night that would allow it,” Ignis tells him.    
  
Prompto’s breath falters. “Iggy --”    
  
“Hush,” Ignis whispers, fingers tapping Prompto’s stomach gently where his hands rest. “We can talk about this in the morning.”    
  
Prompto’s eyes are already drooping, but that doesn’t stop him from squinting into his pillow.    
  
“Iggy --” 

Ignis cuts him off once again, though there’s no mistaking the kiss that lands on his cheek. 

“I won’t be going anywhere,” Ignis promises. And it  _ is  _ a promise, that much Prompto can tell. 

“Okay,” he whispers, mainly because he’s his eyes hurt too much to keep fighting. “In the morning.”    
  
The arms around him tighten for just a moment. “Goodnight, Prompto.”

Everything fades to nothingness before he gets the chance to reply. He hopes Ignis hears it anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed this! thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to read one of my fics this week. you have no idea how much it means to me!!


End file.
